


Addiction

by TigerShinigami



Category: Bleach
Genre: Addiction, Colonel Sanders - Freeform, Consumerism, Crack, Drama, KFC, RenKFC, Secrets, Substance Abuse, don't take this seriously, really please don't take this seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerShinigami/pseuds/TigerShinigami
Summary: They told Renji he was spiraling, that he needed to stop.But he didn’t have a problem. And he certainly didn’t need their help.
Relationships: Abarai Renji & Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> A huge shoutout to the lovely peeps on the IchiRuki Discord server! This very fic wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for those ideas and discussions. This is dedicated to everyone there. :3

Renji ran as fast as he could, desperate to leave behind the comrades and friends who _claimed_ they cared about him. All that mattered was that he was overdue for his next hit, and his body was breaking down by the minute until he got some soon. 

They’d tried to stop him. They tried to trap him- they _tricked_ him! Surrounding him like that in the human world, Rukia, and his captain, and his so-called _friends._ They claimed they wanted what was best for him. But they wanted him to _stop_. They wanted to keep him from the one thing that made him feel alive. Spouting some bullshit about his ‘problem.’ 

They’d found his stash. It was gone, all of it. They’d gotten rid of it because it wasn’t good for him, they claimed. Rukia said some nonsense about his health, that he needed to take care of his body. What the hell did she know?!

He didn’t have a problem. He found one thing that made his life better; For the first time in decades, he felt his life was worth living. 

He traced the oh-so-familiar path down streets and buildings that had seen better days. By then his brow was covered in sweat and his hands shook, his breathing ragged not from the exercise. 

He made it to the right place, his hand fumbling to find purchase on the door handle before he entered and stumbled forward.

“I want… the usual…” he panted, leaning heavily on the nearby wall. 

“What about-”

“ _Now!_ ” he thundered. He cursed under his breath. 

Shaking hands struggled to dig out the money from his pockets. Hastily he tossed the bills forward. 

Ages later, just as Renji felt his body breaking down and on the verge of collapse, they passed him a large white bag. Greedily he tore it open. Already, his mind and body lighting up at the prospect of it, the rush of endorphins before he’d even started. He pulled out the fried chicken tenders, perfectly crispy, juicy, and seasoned. He savored the first bite; his eyes closed in pleasure. 

“Sir,” the attendant said from behind the counter. “You need to sit in the dining area to eat, please.”

Renji’s awareness returned not long after the first bite. He rushed up from his spot on the floor, next to the cash register, and settled into his usual seat in the corner near the framed picture of The Colonel. There were dozens of similar pictures throughout, but that picture was Renji’s favorite. His smile looked the best in that one. 

The next half-hour passed in a euphoric blur of crispy breading and 11 perfectly selected herbs and spices. His eyes took in the beautiful mixture of whites and reds all around him, the colors matching perfectly in the decor and art. Were they the colors of his soul?

When the last crumbs were consumed and his fingers were licked clean, Renji leaned back in his seat, content. The high would linger, still, and he would savor every moment of it. 

“Damn straight,” he muttered with a satisfied smile. He gazed at the life-size cardboard cutout of The Colonel himself, who smiled back at him under his cartoon whiskered mustache with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll never let them take you away from me.” 

A familiar reiatsu was felt, right next to him, but it was too late- Captain Kuchiki strode into the dining room, in his own gigai, dressed in crisply pressed business slacks and a white collared shirt. Renji froze, the shock paralyzing him under his captain’s steely gaze. 

The man gracefully sat in the red and white striped booth, opposite Renji. He placed a small brown paper bag on the table, the branding clearly visible on it. 

Renji’s eyes widened. “But, that’s-!”

Byakuya nodded. 

He opened the bag, the one emblazoned with bright yellow arches, so wrong to be seen in front of The Colonel, and took out a cup of yellow french fries. 

Renji’s breath caught in his throat. “Y-you can’t-”

“I will do as I please,” Byakuya said evenly. 

Renji blinked as the waves of shock managed to subside enough for him to articulate words, past the temptation of rage at his favorite place being defiled so easily by _the other._

“It started a long time ago,” Byakuya said. “A mission into the living world brought items to Soul Society that were of interest. Among them, was a small piece of cooked potato, the likes of which were never seen before. It piqued my curiosity; I had it stored in the Kuchiki Manor. I stared at it each day willing it to share its secrets. Many years passed, yet it did not decay. After twelve years there was no change in its appearance since the day it arrived.”

He paused to regard Renji directly. “I could not stop thinking of it. I dared not eat it, for it was unique, and I feared losing it forever. Finally, I-”

“Excuse me,” the dining room attendant said, who approached the table. “I can take that,” he gestured to the empty food cartons piled in front of Renji. Renji passed him the remains of his forbidden feast. 

“Thanks, Hoshi,” Renji said. 

Byakuya sent a cool glare at Hoshi as he left. He turned again to Renji. “As I was saying,” Byakuya said with an intensity only faintly seen by the glint in his eyes. “I finally chose to take action. The time had come to-”

"I'm sorry,” Hoshi said, now standing by their table once again. “Sir, you’re not allowed to bring in-”

“It’s okay, Hoshi. Leave him be!” Renji said. 

Byakuya glared daggers at the man- a look that could bring most men to their knees to beg forgiveness, to plead mercy. 

Hoshi sighed. “Yeah, whatever.” He returned to cleaning the other tables. 

Byakuya paused, waiting. He looked once more to Renji. “The time had come to visit the living world for myself, in search of more.”

Renji nodded, numb. 

With practiced grace and precision, Byakuya arranged the fries on a napkin. He started to eat, somehow elegant and poised. Renji glanced back at The Colonel’s cardboard stand, fearful as if the man himself could see the blasphemy before him. 

Byakuya finished his fries. “I am loving it.” He dabbed carefully at his mouth with a paper napkin. Then he glared at Renji in warning. “You will not speak of this.” 

Renji nodded. “Does that mean-”

“You may eat what you please.”

Renji couldn’t hold back the grin on his face, and he shot a triumphant glance at The Colonel despite himself. “Thank you, sir!”

His joy nearly overshadowed the memory that was called forth, the images he’d seen in marketing and billboards in the city. “Ah…” Renji started. “Aren’t ya supposed to dip those in ice cream or somethin’?”

Byakuya froze, as if struck by the very thought, his eyes widened in a look of shock that had not been seen in decades. “Dip... in… ice cream…?!” he muttered brokenly.

Renji shrugged. “...Yeah, I think.”

\---

They wasted no time. They moved quickly to procure an iced treat Byakuya deemed worthy of the fries, from the house of golden arches itself. It was a beautiful union; everyone nearby cheered as Byakuya’s world was shaken. He questioned if everything he ever believed was a lie. His purpose in life, his role in the Kuchiki Clan, as a captain- all of it meaningless, now.

Had he ever really known truth? 

No. He had not. 

Life would never be the same ever again. 

\---

They returned to the Urahara shop to rejoin the others. Byakuya, forever changed, said nothing. Renji grew nostalgic for the time he first tried The Colonel’s chicken and how his world transformed in an instant. They would not speak to anyone of their foray into the decadent foods of the human world. It would remain secret, always. 

Ichigo stood in the living room, watching Rukia with disappointment, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand why you’d do this,” he shook his head. 

“Is it so hard to understand?” she smirked faintly, bitterly. 

“Why? Of all the choices you had-”

“I can’t help how I feel, Ichigo!” She folded her arms. “It simply felt right, at the time.”

Ichigo grit his teeth. “Of all places… You had to get this? Chicken nuggets?!” He gestured to the empty food containers hastily hidden at her feet. 

“It’s not my fault the barbeque shop is nearby-”

“Chicken nuggets aren’t barbeque! You didn’t even get dipping sauce!” Ichigo raked a hand through his hair. “I told you a thousand times- if you want good food, go to the place down the block next to the newsstand!”

“The one with the strange man loitering in front of it, shouting obscenities?”

“He’s only there on some days- and he adds charm!”

“That place is tiny! It’s dirty, with bugs!” Rukia yelled. 

“It’s the best food in town!” Ichigo shouted back. He scowled and looked away. “Anything’s better than those stupid franchised clones all over the country. They’re all the same.”

Byakuya and Renji shared the smallest imperceptible glance. “F-Franchised?” Renji asked.

“Yeah, they set up locations all over the place if someone offers enough money. Why?”

Renji stared. Byakuya stared. No one spoke, until Rukia and Ichigo frowned and looked to one another in confusion. 

“Uh… No reason,” Renji said, and he resisted the urge to grin. 


End file.
